It should be no surprise that our 2024 ranking of America’s 100 Greatest Golf Holes, the first of its kind since 1999, is heavily populated with representatives from the America’s 100 Greatest Golf Courses ranking. These holes are why those courses are considered great. To formulate this ranking, Golf Digest compiled a list of more than 1,200 candidate holes, then asked our course-ranking panelists to judge each on a scale of 1 to 10, in four categories: Aesthetics (the visual and emotional power the hole evokes), Challenge (the degree of skill required to play it well), Uniqueness (how original it is compared to other holes) and Overall (sometimes a hole is better—or worse—than the sum of its parts).

The results introduce 22 holes that didn’t exist in 1999, and 37 others that have been resurrected through renovation or reappraisal. Many of the old war horses return, but more so this list represents where we are today at the intersection of revisionist history and the boundless possibility of architecture in breathtaking settings. To compare the 2024 ranking to 1999, see the March 1999 issue at archive.golfdigest.com.

You might assume that any hole making the ranking from this Pete Dye masterpiece would come from the ocean dunes, but the panel pays respect to this inland hole where players drive diagonally across a lagoon and then thread a needle to a green set hard on the water.

Tillinghast considered the 10th his best par 3, and Ben Hogan, considering the house behind it and the precision needed to place the ball on the correct section of a green that appears to levitate above bunkers, described it as “a 3-iron through some guy’s window.”

Unflappable Dustin Johnson made this hole look rudimentary hitting driver/6-iron to four feet at the conclusion of the 2016 U.S. Open, but the five fairway bunkers, stiff rough and green that feels like putting down an escalator more typically turns players to blubber.

The entire 17th hole at Ballyneal in the Chop Hills of northeast Colorado appears molten, from the lava-lamp fairway that deflects drives into blind side pockets to a simmering putting surface of bubbles and basins, one of the wildest greens on a course full of them.

Eastward Ho! flaunts some of the most adventurous golf terrain in the country, exemplified by an 18th hole that bounces over a hump on the blind drive and into a hollow by the water’s edge before climbing on the approach back to an elevated bulwark green.

Like the 11th (see No. 74), surreal topography makes this hole dazzle as drives are hit to a fairway that flutters like a kite tail past a trench bunker, then dips between two fescue-covered outcroppings before sliding into a low, square green set against a pond.

The lure of driving the green has sealed the fate of both members and major-champion hopefuls because the small target, set on a high ridge, spills into five bunkers including “Big Mouth” lurking nine feet below the putting surface on the right.

Pacific Dunes’ emotional energy comes from the way holes alternate between intimate and expansive spaces, and the third does both, parachuting from a panoramic tee to a vast gorse plain and back up to a green notched in dunes above the ocean shoreline.

With its small, sectioned green sitting 50 feet above the fairway over steep, recessed bunkers, the 15th has been the toughest hole in relation to par during each of the three majors the Black has hosted: the 2002 and 2009 U.S. Opens and the 2019 PGA Championship.

Alister MacKenzie remodeled Palmetto’s bunkers and greens in 1932 when he was completing work 20 miles away at Augusta National, but he wouldn’t have had to do much to the dainty little seventh with its elevated putting surface platformed into a wooded hillside.

Similarities exist between the second and the 18th (see No. 82) with Simpson Creek running down the left and a green stretched out above the hazard, but the tee shot is more diagonal, and players can attempt to steal yardage by taking aggressive risk/reward lines.

Mike Strantz built big fishhook par 5s that curl around hazards at several of his original designs, but the one here is the most exciting because of the temptation to crush 230-yard second shots directly over no man’s land to a lower green roosting on the rim.

Shinnecock is a second shot course, even on par 5s: There’s room to drive to the slithering fairway toward the iconic clubhouse horizon, but from there care needs to be taken to avoid acres of native grass, 10 greenside bunkers and putts from above the hole.

Another in a long line of Pete Dye’s card-destroying par-3 17ths, this one is chiseled into the palisades over Lake Michigan and features an alligator-eye bunker blocking part of the putting surface and nine circles of hell for any shot that strays left.

The downhill second shot sums up Robert Trent Jones’ “heroic” style of architecture: Players have the choice of hitting to a larger right fairway to set up a short pitch across a pond or attempt a deep carry over the water to a sliver of land short left of the green.

Sand Hollow’s 12th speeds along the same red rock ledge as the 13th and 15th, but the catcher’s mitt shaping around the green makes it more forgiving, though players who want the best angle into it still need to challenge the precipice.

There may be no greater walkup to a hole than the 300-foot stroll between the 15th and 16th at Friar’s Head across a footbridge suspended over the shore of Long Island Sound, and the hole is almost as good, rambling down and up between high dune embankments.

Bunkers squeeze the landing area in front of the green on this short par 4, and drives that miss left will find recoveries impossible from the valley floor 100 feet below (see No. 59), meaning the smart tactic is to lay up, wedge on, make par and just enjoy the view.

The 18th bears similarities to Dye’s 18th at TPC Sawgrass in the way the fairway arcs uncomfortably to the left from tee to green around a falloff into Simpson Creek, and it becomes a three-shot hole for drives that chicken out to the right.

Many try to drive this small, narrow green set atop a knoll, and most who do end up down an embankment on the right pitching back uphill to a putting surface just 15 paces deep, or worse, in the bunker left, 15 feet below the green.

If there were a ranking for the greatest fairways in golf, the eighth at Prairie Dunes would be top 10 with its indescribable swells and swales. The ferociously tilted green, perched aside a dune, is also great and one of the most fearsome on the course.

Depending on the wind, the green, stepped into the side of a dune, is drivable for most golfers playing the correct markers, but the tee shot must walk a tightrope past a 10-foot-deep blowout bunker short left and a short-grass valley falling away on the right.

William Flynn had a gift for using bunkers and landforms as interesting cross hazards, and he incorporated both at The Country Club’s 15th hole, banking a string of bunkers into a diagonal ridge to create high and low fairways and long, blind approach shots.

The 11th is one of Sheep Ranch’s few holes not on or even much in view of the ocean, a testament to the visual impact of this par 5 that plows through a conifer forest before rising toward a green set inside a volcano-like crater of stone.

Donald Ross designed upward of 7,000 holes in his career, but only one like Buffalo’s sixth, a singular specimen framed by a rock-walled quarry with a strange altar-like green that appears to be melting away like a sandcastle in the tide.

The Pacific Ocean backdrop always made for a spectacular setting, but this hole didn’t become one of the best in America until architects Tim Jackson and David Kahn (working with Tom Fazio) remodeled it in 2016, exposing sand and adding the lone cypress behind the green.

Called “Himalayas,” this par 5 is a multi-chapter journey over a tectonic minefield starting with an elevated drive over outcroppings of puddingstone to a low fairway that crosses a stream, finishing with a third shot over bunkers to a blind green in a hillside saddle.

Compared to the heaving natural landforms that enliven this property the dogleg 12th feels genteel, rising slowly around a cluster of fairway bunkers on the inside corner that force a decision: play short, play left, or go over the top.

The 10th caps the last of five straight holes that all make the ranking, in this case a slightly mellower follow-up to the roller coaster ninth (see No. 34). There might be better trios of holes somewhere, but no course can match Pebble Beach’s run from six through 10.

Playing downhill across a gorge to a green that kicks balls to the left, this is Pikewood National’s fourth hole in the ranking, a remarkable feat considering neither of the architects/owners, J. Robert Gwynne and John Raese, had designed a golf course before.

Among the most disconcerting short irons in golf, hitting onto this 2,200-square-foot green wedged between mounds and seven coffin-like bunkers is like playing to the seat cushion of a La-Z-Boy that will steal more than your change.

With a green set perilously above a bend in Cobbs Creek, this short par 4 has been one of the game’s most beloved holes since Bobby Jones closed out Eugene Homans, 8 and 7, to win the 1930 U.S. Amateur and capture the fourth leg of the Grand Slam.

Bunkers in the center of greens is a template that never caught on (probably for the best), but it works here because it’s attractive, and the distinct hole locations around it can be accessed with putts via banks and ramps.

Only 11 birdies—and zero on Sunday—were recorded on this hole during the 2013 U.S. Open, namely because the green, approached with long clubs and sitting above a small valley, is extremely difficult to hold with the back half running away.

Players with enough horsepower can get drives close to this attractive green encased in bunkers and set on the far side of a grassy basin. Everyone else positions tees shots over a blind rampart leaving a short-iron second that needs to be played with precision.

CapRock’s 18th guarantees you go out feeling flush with emotion—elation because your tee shot has made the sizable carry over the edge of the Snake River canyon eating into the property from far below or dejection because it hasn’t.

Spyglass’ fourth, playing through fields of sand and ice plant near 17 Mile Drive, bears similarities to the ninth at neighboring Cypress Point, particularly the long thread of a putting surface cocked at a 45-degree angle.

Drivable par 4s are all the rage now, but holes like Cypress Point’s ninth, with a tee shot that must navigate sand dunes, steep terrain and a slender angled green that rises six feet from front to back, were as rare in Alister MacKenzie’s day as this one is beautiful.

A few holes in the ranking play 100 feet above an ocean or valley floor, but this one plunges 100 feet down off a skyline tee to a narrow fairway that runs into a green protected on the left by a Road Hole pot bunker.

If there’s another par 5 that’s anything like the sixth, with a drive scissorred by bunkers and an ocean crevice followed by a blind second shot over a rocky cliff to a green showing 360-degree views up and down the Monterey Peninsula, we’ve yet to see it.

(60) OLD ELM C. / SECOND HOLE
HIGHLAND PARK, ILL.
445 YARDS, PAR 4

Balancing a razor’s edge between simplicity and sophistication, the fairway is 70 yards wide playing into a bunkerless green, but any slightly off-target approach to the knoll putting surface will roll down embankments leaving maddening recoveries.

The setting of this par 3 in southwest Utah, with views stretching 20 miles north, is one of the most memorable in the United States with the green propped on a red rock terrace that falls over 100 feet to a valley floor on the left.

Seth Raynor found inventive ways to tweak the angle and tilt of the many Redan greens he built throughout the country, but National’s Redan—the first of its kind in the United States—remains the most refined and naturally connected to the land.

(57) YALE G. CSE. / NINTH HOLE
NEW HAVEN, CONN.
201 YARDS, PAR 3

Only unfathomable geological forces—not man or machine—could create the landforms of such a hole that crests over a hill to a luge-run fairway, passes through a pinch point of dunes and then lurches back up to a bluff overlooking the expanse of Pleasant Bay.

The magnetic, nearly inescapable pot bunker short right of the green (see No. 3) gets all the attention, but the slippery putting surface, tilted back to front and left to right, deserves its own anatomically derived moniker.

Ben Hogan thought the par-4 sixth was the best hole at Seminole, but we have it as the 17th, a wind-whipped par 3 playing from the seaside dunes toward a thin green surrounded by seven deep bunkers—missing it somewhere other than the sand is pure luck.

Massive fairway bunkers dictate shot shapes on this uphill par 5, calling for a right-to-left drive followed by a left-to-right cross-hazard second to set up a third into a small, table-top green that falls away sharply right and long.

Southern Hills’ 12th never lets up with a semi-blind tee shot to a sharp dogleg fairway, a long, downhill approach from a hanging lie and a wickedly canted Perry Maxwell crowned green slipping into a water hazard short right.

Merion’s second of back-to-back quarry holes (see No. 7) set ups a long, frightening tee shot across a grassy basin, but the green, rising toward the back with a deep thumbprint depression front left, is the bigger problem.

The ninth moves toward a point on the opposite side of the island from Fishers’ previously ranked holes, playing out to Seth Raynor’s three-level double plateau green set against the water horizon, a warning not to go long.

A large dune blocks the front two-thirds of this green excavated from a valley of sand, but there’s 15,000 square feet of putting surface behind it and an almost infinite variety of hole locations.

This par 4 has been Hazeltine’s most recognizable hole since Robert Trent Jones designed it in 1962, calling for a precision drive to a 30-yard-wide fairway followed by a nervous approach to a peninsula green jutting into a lake.

The undulations of National’s 16th are remarkable with a central spine running the length of the fairway and falling into deep pockets on either side along with a tall bunker fortress hiding a small punchbowl green that feeds shots onto the putting surface.

Harbour Town’s 18th, its wide fairway skirting Calibogue Sound and famous striped lighthouse standing sentry beyond the green, was an announcement, in 1969, of the arrival of the Pete Dye era of golf design.

Like no. 45, the first hole at the minimally constructed Sand Hills, galloping like a bronco through low, fescue-blown dunes before rising toward the distant ridge top green, was also a symbolic announcement in 1995 that golf design was entering a new era of naturalism.

The Ocean Course’s 17th (center) is not an island green like the 17th at Sawgrass, but it’s every bit as harrowing with a slender, angled putting surface set against a water hazard, the father back the flag the longer the carry needed in the intense coastal winds.

This tough, narrow hole cut through trees proves bunkers aren’t needed to make a hole photogenic as the fairway bends right toward an infinity green set on the edge of a mountain ridge with forever views beyond.

Maidstone is a tale of two parts, with seven holes inland through an East Hampton neighborhood and the rest in sandy dunes, including the linksy ninth running along the Atlantic Ocean frontage.

A “Leven” template, the 17th showcases one of the game’s great strategic concepts that rewards drives in proportion to how much distance they can carry over diagonal fairway bunkers, with longer tee shots resulting in increasingly shorter and more unobstructed approaches.

Tough company when one of the most spectacular holes ever created—a short par 3 set in a stunning natural amphitheater of cypress and rock, playing over a cove of sea-sprayed Pacific Ocean—is looking up at 37 others.

(37) THE CREEK / 11TH HOLE
LOCUST VALLEY, N.Y.
195 YARDS, PAR 3

This Biarritz green doesn’t have the most pronounced swale we’ve seen (see No. 57), but it does have a one-of-a-kind setting with the entire putting surface an island in a waterway, one barrier reef away from Long Island Sound, so missing it is not an option.

The beauty of this green cradled in a nest of bunkers, fescue and sea plants along the ocean headlands distracts from the task of putting a clean strike on the ball—missing left, right or short can be game over.

American golf’s original Leviathan, this nasty, brutish and anything but short three-shot par 5 jumps from one island fairway over Hell’s Half Acre to another, then runs dead end into a second sand cavern in front of a green that is itself an island.

The rolling topography of the ninth makes this more than just another stunning hole along the sea, and bold players can use the big left-to-right slope to get at the most advantageous angle into the green.

Arguably the most exciting par 5 in tournament golf, the 13th has been lengthened by 60 yards over the past 25 years to preserve the “momentous decision,” as Bobby Jones famously put it, of going for the green in two.

This “island” hole, with a foot stool green surrounded not by a body of water but by a battlefield of sand on the shore of Buzzards Bay, was the 19th best par 3 in 1999—this time it’s the 12th.

The Church Pews bunkers that have made this par 4 one of golf’s most identifiable holes for a century should be avoided at all costs, but the crowned, elevated green is this hole’s real superpower.

This is one of eight par 3s in the ranking of less than 150 yards, but like the seventh at Pebble Beach, Sand Hills’ postage stamp 17th can play three or four clubs longer in the brutal Nebraska winds.

Putting the ball in play off the tee is critical at Shinnecock, a task made more difficult by the sweeping, angled fairway at 18 (near) that produces unlevel lies and awkward approaches into one of the largest and most pitched greens on the course.

Of all the great Redan holes in the United States, this one is our favorite with its severely bowed green running away at the rear, and it’s designed not by C.B Macdonald or Seth Raynor who popularized the concept in this country but by A.W. Tillinghast.

Eleven of the first 27 holes in the ranking are set on and over parts of the Pacific Ocean, none more video game-like than this Golden Tee sea-shot to a green waiting atop a sheer 70-foot escarpment.

The shortest hole in our ranking, set on the far tip of an outstretched peninsula and exposed to the most extreme winds and pulse-racing views, received the second-highest score in Aesthetics.

Not even an elevated tee shot and wide fairway can relieve the dread of facing this behemoth par 4 requiring a long, blind uphill second over water and a wall of sand, the last thing anything wants to see after struggling to survive the previous 17 holes.

The anticipation that begins to build from the view of Long Island Sound through a break in the distant dunes is paid off with a sense of arrival once you emerge from the fairway valley onto a green tucked near the shoreline.

The 13th, yielding radically different approach shots for drives attacking different sections of fairway—challenging a ridgeline on the left leaves shorter and more direct approaches over a deep barren—is the most strategic hole on a course known for penal ones.

Bill Bergin and Rees Jones’ new 18th hole, built in 2018 on a previously unused section of property below the old 18th, cloud walks on a sliver of rock hundreds of feet above a valley cove.

Ben Crenshaw once called this wind-whipped par 3, with its tiny green teetering atop a dune that dives into bunkers short and a low chipping area behind, the shortest par-5 in America.

An acceptance of punishment—some would say a desire for it—is wired into the golfer’s psyche. Thousands of people a year travel to TPC Sawgrass to surrender hundreds of dollars a round for the right to chunk and flair balls into the water at the 17th hole. Pete Dye’s island green wasn’t the first of its kind, but it was revolutionary in its understanding of human nature and our innate attraction to scenes of horror and suspense.

(19) SHEEP RANCH / SIXTH HOLE
BANDON, ORE.
460 YARDS, PAR 4

Bill Coore’s Sheep Ranch routing manages to fit nine greens along the course’s high Pacific ramparts (including the shared third/16th putting surface), but only one hole plays across the breach, 60-feet below. Angled over an abyss of campers and driftwood, six puts players’ fates in their own hands with a drive that offers progressively longer carries, from a mere 150 yards to more than 300. Depending on the seasonal winds, the lines of attack at both extremes are likely to be explored.

How often do you encounter a 386-yard three-shot hole? That’s Cypress Point’s 17th when drives aren’t executed bravely. The boldest will cut across the Pacific and hug the rocks on the right edge of the fairway, leaving a clear short-iron approach over the crags to an elevated green. Longer drives hit down the left into a studio apartment of fairway will also have a direct pitch from the other angle, but anything in the vast middle between these two tactics will be blocked out by a grove of large cypress, necessitating a layup.

A stream crosses the landing area of this demanding par 4 and curves down the right side, and the green, perched well above the fairway, is diabolically tilted and easy to three-putt. The hole almost always draws blood during major championships—winners need to arrive here with at least a two-shot lead because they usually walk away with a five. Mito Pereira’s lead was only one in the 2022 PGA Championship, and he flared his drive into the creek, took six, and missed the Justin Thomas/Wil Zalatoris playoff by a stroke.

At the time Mauna Kea’s sensational par-3 third opened in 1966, nearly 40 years had passed since any bluff-to-bluff oceanfront golf holes had been built in the United States. Those holes were at Cypress Point. Here on the northwest coast of the Big Island, Robert Trent Jones built a modern, mirrrored doppelganger of Cypress’ famed 16th (see below). From the crazy tees it’s a 245-yard carry over a piece of Kauna’oa Bay to the front of the green, but there are shorter tees and a landing spot of fairway short-right for everyone who doesn’t have the big shot in the bag.

Many of the hole concepts C.B. Macdonald pioneered at National Golf Links like the Redan, the Eden, Punchbowl and Bottle (cribbed from holes in the United Kingdom) matriculated into the common design vernacular and are still being reproduced. Not the Alps, the third hole at NGLA (in the foreground, playing toward bottom) modeled after the 17th at Prestwick. Why? Not too many golfers enjoy hitting long second shots over a high hill to a green they can’t see, one that’s also guarded by bunkers in front. That makes playing the real thing more exciting.

Like the fourth at Pacific Dunes, the 13th is an awesome specimen, defined by the ocean cliffs on the left and a towering sand dune right of the green with two bunkers carved into its face, 80 yards tip to tip. The fairway crests and is more rumpled than its sibling, and the putting surface is a pedestal benched into the foot of the dune, but otherwise the strategy is similar: Play toward peril for the least obstructed line to the green. The original property didn’t include the green site. The now iconic section of land and dune was off-the-map, and Tom Doak and Jim Urbina discovered it late in the routing process.

Like its previous hole, the punchbowl fourth (see No. 4), Fishers Island’s fifth is another Macdonald/Raynor ideal hole, this one the Biarritz, a template identified by a deep, thin green with two plateau sections elevated before and after a deep swale (the club maintains the front plateau as fairway rather than green). Many consider Yale’s Biarritz (see No. 57) the finest of its type, but the setting of Fishers Island on the rocky edge of the Atlantic carries it in this ranking.

Golf was not being built on oceans at the time David McLay Kidd was constructing this hole in the late 1990s on a priceless piece of land that only Mike Keiser had the foresight to buy. The Bandon site was a revelation, giving Kidd nearly a mile of Pacific frontage to play with, and he took advantage by creating a tantalizing short par 4 that offers safe tee shot options and the chance to take on the cliffs with a drive toward the green. Gorgeous and tactical, this is the hole that put Bandon, and destination resort golf, on the map.

The 16th at Sleepy Hollow is the ugly duckling of the rankings. C.B. Macdonald and Seth Raynor built their provocative “short” template here on a high point overlooking the Hudson River, but over the years trees grew to block the views, and modern circular bunkers and mounds were added around the green. The work of Gil Hanse and Jim Wagner from 2006 to 2016 cleared away the trees and brush, then recreated Macdonald’s green contouring and surrounding moat bunker to reveal a breathtaking swan with miles-long views up and down the river.

The fourth hole wins Pacific Dunes’ battle of Cain and Abel. Both this and the par-4 13th (see No. 14) are two prodigious two-shot brothers, mirror images almost, their back tees just 60 yards apart, cruising the edge of Pacific bluffs in opposite directions. The thought of drives sailing onto the beach makes players hedge to the left, but the only way to hit good second shots onto a green notched between a dune and the western precipice of North America is to play from the right, which means hanging out cliffside.

“This is a shameless little harlot that just sits there at the end of the bar in her mesh stockings and miniskirt and winks at you. It’s only a little over 300 yards long and looks as drivable as the 405 Freeway. Don’t go for it. Take your 4-iron and hit it safely and sensibly left. The peninsula green will open up from there. If you try to drive it, you will find the green as narrow as a burlesque runway.” Jim Murray, columnist, Los Angeles Times, 1961-1998.

Playing the shortish par-4 second has always been like trying to escape the pre-Colombian ruins in Raiders of the Lost Ark. The drive must run a gauntlet of small, poisonous bunkers on both sides of the fairway, and approach shots catapult over pyramid steps of sand and rugged fescue brows onto a giant swaying green. Tom Fazio removed two trap-door pot bunkers short of the green in 2016, replacing them with a single yawning orifice, but our panelists approve of the changes.

The greatness of Merion lies in the diversity of its holes. The design keeps confronting players with new looks and challenges—even after 15 holes the course still has tricks. Following two graceful, uphill par 4s, the 16th switches direction suddenly to make players situate a precision drive to a slender and partially blind fairway, then execute all-carry second shots up and over a burly quarry to a wavy green showing just a tease of false front.

This is a three-star Michelin meal, a sensory extravaganza from start to finish. There are few experiences like contemplating the hole from the promontory tee over the crashing waves, driving across the curve of Stillwater Cove, deciding how close to the edge of land to push the second shot, then holing out on the green where Jack Nicklaus, Tom Watson, Tiger Woods and so many others have celebrated victory. Magnifique.

In 2020, Ron Whitten and I named this the best eighth hole in the United States built since 2000. Our panelists agree. It’s a par 5 you can’t take your eyes off that needed little more than tree-felling to create. The double-dogleg slices right around the crescent of a vast chasm and asks golfers to assess how much of the grotto to bite off with each shot, with the ultimate option of cutting across the deep hazard to reach the green in two, either an idiotic or heroic choice that can shave almost 100 yards off the hole.

Contemporary architects have rediscovered the quirky attraction of large punchbowl greens and have gleefully designed them in wildly different configurations. Seth Raynor, however, was building some of the best and still most original over 100 years ago. The first great example was at National Golf Links of America (see No. 46), but his model at Fishers Island, with its hidden green propped on an appendage of land above the Atlantic with only a sighting pole to aim at, is our favorite.

Pine Valley’s par 3 10th (coming later in the rankings) possesses one of golf’s deepest and most famous bunkers (the “Devil’s Asshole”), but the demanding fifth, climbing uphill over water and a ski jump fairway is more intimidating, despite the aforementioned allusion. Trees used to crowd the green but now an avalanche of cratered sand pits spills down from the left and in the background, intensifying the visage. As impressive as the fifth is, all four of Pine Valley’s one-shot holes could rightfully be included on this list.

Pebble Beach’s eighth is the par-4 version of Cypress Point’s 16th. The first half is quiet and strangely unsettling with a drive played blindly uphill into the blue sky and nothing particular to aim for. Then comes the thunder, a long and terrifying second shot from high above an ocean inlet to a tiny (they’re all tiny at Pebble), well-bunkered green. Both holes offer room for an extra shot to fairways left of the greens, but what’s the fun of playing safe when glory is at stake?

The No. 1 par 3 in our 1999 ranking hasn’t lost any of the spectacular mojo that Alister MacKenzie and Marion Hollins designed into it (or stumbled upon, depending on the view). Requiring long, all-or-nothing tee shots over a rocky cove of the Pacific Ocean, it’s the stuff golf dreams are made of and still the hole that most triumphantly combines aesthetics, challenge and uniqueness.

*Approximate—no official yardage listed

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